


The Devil Is In The Details

by 100YardDash



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BAMF Matt Murdock, Canon-Typical Violence, Daredevil (TV) Spoilers, F/M, Foggy Nelson Is a Good Bro, Gunshot Wounds, Marvel Universe, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Bisexual Character, Past Relationship(s), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Tags Contain Spoilers, Vladimir Ranskahov Feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-06-06 17:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6762916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100YardDash/pseuds/100YardDash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eden Bellamy is an enigmatic, and not entirely scrupulous, Hell's Kitchen-based bike messenger who is just trying stay one step ahead and survive. However, after making several reckless decisions, she comes face-to-face with the Devil of Hell's Kitchen and is thrown headfirst into the world of vigilantism.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Face In The Crowd

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of my story and my OCs. Anything you recognize from the Daredevil TV show (characters, locations, etc.) belong to Marvel, Netflix, and the individual artists/writers who created the original comics.**

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Eden yelled, rapidly backpedalling her bicycle to keep from crashing into the tinted back window of the sleek, black town car that had screeched to a halt a few feet ahead of her. "Move, you stupid piece of shit!"

It was a truly miserable day. Torrents of rain were pouring from a thick ceiling of black clouds that loomed menacingly overhead, making the already-packed streets of Manhattan slick and even more treacherous. Her red raincoat and black combat boots, both tattered Salvation Army grabs, were practically soaked through, and her muscles and head ached from last night's many terrible decisions. All she wanted to do was finish this delivery and put her feet up somewhere cozy and warm before her night job started.

"They're going to kill me if I'm late," Eden grumbled as she checked her watch. It was 4:40 PM and her client was expecting her to arrive at his shop before 5:00. She'd already been tardy twice this month—she couldn't afford another infraction. Unfortunately, the town car still hadn't budged and there was no way she could maneuver through the throng of vehicles and get past it safely.

A cabbie beeped angrily at her and she whirled around, flipping the bird at him. She turned back around just in time to see a bespectacled, dark haired man in a very nice suit climb out of the car, unfurl his black umbrella and cross the street at a leisurely pace through the cacophony of blaring horns and heavy rain. When the man was out of sight, the town car finally began to move and Eden zoomed down the street behind it until she could sneak her way past.

Her muscles ached as she peddled, protesting the exercise after the strain they'd endured the night before, but Eden didn't mind the pain. She'd take aches and pains from this job over the emotional toil of her last one any day of the week. She looked down at her watch again as she peddled through Chelsea and into Hell's Kitchen. It was 4:45, if she didn't hurry she'd be stuck with her client's package all night and would have to drop it off tomorrow—and she was not keeping this thing in her apartment under any circumstances.

She peddled even harder; her legs practically throbbing as she whizzed past traffic lights and crosswalks down the battered streets of Hell's Kitchen until she came to a small, grey building with Veles Taxi painted on the tightly-shut garage door. She wheeled to the back alley of the building and locked her bike to the stair railing of the back door. She banged on the door with her fist, shivering as she waited in the rain.

After what seemed like ages, a terrifyingly muscular man that she didn't recognize answered the door with a sneer.

"Что ты хочешь?" he grunted irritably; he must've been new.

"I have a delivery from Waypoint Courier." she replied.

"Проваливай, малыш!"

Eden clenched her hands into fists and held back an exasperated groan. Why couldn't Vladimir just tell his idiotic cronies when she was coming?

"Ваш босс ждет меня." She replied in as even of a tone as she could muster. "Вы действительно хотите, чтобы держать его ждать?"

"Hey, what the hell are you standing around for?" A familiar voice bellowed from inside the building. Eden smirked when she spotted the voice's owner come into view behind the muscly man.

"Hey Turk," she said with a little wave. "Can you tell this guy to let me in? I'm soaked."

Turk Barrett gave the other man a look that could only be described as pissed off. "She works for me, you moron."

The muscly man grunted an apology and moved out of the way. Eden gave Turk an appreciative smile as she finally went inside. The man scurried off down the hallway as she and Turk headed in the opposite direction.

"Any problems at the drop zone?" he asked as Eden pulled down her hood and tried to wipe some of the rain off of her.

"Nope, not even a single cop spotted me."

"That's my girl." Turk replied with an approving smile before he stopped and knocked on a wooden door. After a moment, he turned the knob and ushered her inside.

A well-dressed man with an angular face smirked as he looked up from the paperwork that littered his desk. Turk then excused himself and left the way he came.

"Ты опоздал, Olivia," Anatoly chided lightly as the door to his office was shut behind her. "I thought I warned you about keeping me waiting."

She didn't react to hearing her alias spoken aloud. She'd grown used to answering to it over the last year or so that she'd been using it. Instead, she looked down at her watch and saw that it read 5:15. "I would've been here on time if your goon hadn't stopped me at the door. How's Vladimir?"

If Anatoly found her flippant tone unnerving, he didn't let it show. "He's been better."

She avoided his gaze and rummaged through her bag for the parcel. She really wanted to tell Anatoly that she was sorry, but there wasn't really an easy way to apologize to someone for dumping their younger brother nearly three weeks ago. Thankfully, Eden managed to avoid that conversation as her fingers finally brushed up against the what she'd been searching for.

She pulled out the brown paper package from her messenger bag and handed it over to him. Anatoly pulled on the white string holding the parcel together and pulled out one of three craggy, cocoon-like canisters. It was alien technology from the Incident, one of countless pieces that mob-backed thugs had stolen from warehouses and shipping containers across New York City and left at drop sites for smugglers like Eden to deliver to higher-up mobsters or buyers. Eden didn't really care what happened to the stuff, all she really cared about was getting paid for delivering it.

Once he was satisfied with his inspection of the canister, Anatoly pulled out a thick roll of bills that Eden quickly stuffed into a hidden compartment of her bag. As she zipped it up, he eyed her curiously.

"You don't look so good, Liv." Anatoly said, and her fingers went instinctively to the butterfly bandage that held the nasty cut on her right eyebrow together. Smaller cuts dotted her face as well, but she'd managed to cover those up with makeup. "Are you alright?"

"Occupational hazard," she lied, trying to shrug off the mobster's concern. "I didn't see a dip in the pavement and I flew off my bike."

Anatoly looked like he was about to say something but before he could get a word out, his phone rang. "I have to take this, you can go if you want."

"Thanks," she said as she pulled up the hood of her jacket. "See you in a few days."

He gave her a little smile-and-wave before answering the phone, and Eden couldn't help but grin a little at the gesture as she went back to her bike. For all his faults and illicit dealings, Anatoly had always tried to look out for her in one way or another—whether it was slipping her some illegally obtained food stamps when she looked like she hadn't been eating, or having an associate send her new bike tires after a jilted idiot had slashed hers in a drunken rage. To her secret relief, the breakup with Vladimir hadn't changed any of that. Anatoly treated her the same way he always had, and Eden appreciated his little acts of kindness and concern more than she was ever willing to admit. However, she also knew that Anatoly would completely flip out if he ever figured out how she spent most of her nights.

As she went back to her bike, Eden heard her phone ding in her pocket and fished it out. It was a burner phone, another one of the many occupational quirks that dotted her life. On the fingerprint-coated screen she saw she had a text from Kevin Keller, her night manager.

 **"Hey Liv!"** the text said. **"I've got a great gig lined up for you at 11. Big $$$ if you play your cards right. We're at the warehouse at Pier 81 tonight, don't be late!"**

She sent back a quick reply and unlocked her bike, shivering as the rain began to seep through the tears of her jacket. She desperately needed to dry off and take a nap before tonight.

"Suck it up!" she told herself as she climbed back onto the little red bike. "It's not like you live in another borough."

This fact comforted her somewhat as she whizzed down the congested city streets as fast as her legs could managed. As she peddled, she counted the blocks to her apartment and envisioned the wonderful moment when she could finally plop onto her bed.

"13…12…just keep peddling," Eden told herself as the wind whipped her face and muddy water splashed her legs. "10…9…almost there."

Eden was seven blocks away when her bike skidded dangerously as she was making a turn, causing her to nearly collide into a beautiful woman wearing a fashionable black trench coat. She had managed to right her mistake and execute the turn, but she did a double take when she caught sight of the woman's long, honey-blonde curls whipping in the wind. She didn't get a good look at the woman's face, but what she saw looked suspiciously familiar.

"It wasn't her," Eden told herself, tears prickling the corners of her eyes as she peddled away as fast as she could. "She's dead."

The words were like a prayer as she mumbled them over and over again. She said them as unlocked the front door to her building, stashed her bike in storage room, and ran up the four flights of stairs to her apartment. In fact, she didn't stop saying the words until she'd dead-bolted the door behind her and slowly collapsed onto the floor.

* * *

By the time Eden had showered, napped, and eaten a pitiful microwave dinner, dusk had fallen over Hell's Kitchen. Her muscles still ached from the day's deliveries, but she knew she couldn't blow off her night job tonight. Kevin was promising a big pay-out, and she couldn't afford to say no to that.

As she looked out her window at the sliver of dark skyline, something black and agile jumped onto her window seat and nearly knocked over a small pot of miniature pink roses.

"Azazel!" she huffed in frustration as she steadied the pot. "Be careful!"

Her cat looked up at her with his eerie yellow eyes and yowled in irritation.

"Well, excuse me," she chuckled as she scratched behind his ears. "But you should know better by now."

She'd had the little beast for about six months, after she found him shivering in the alley behind her apartment one cold and rainy night. Despite her best efforts, she had grown attached to the crabby little thing.

Just as she was giving Azazel another scratch behind the ears, her phone dinged from the front pocket of her Captain America hoodie. She fished it out of the pocket to find that it was a text from Kevin.

 **"We're all set for tonight,"** the message said. **"If you want to make any cash, I'd suggest you start heading down here soon."**

She sighed and gave her cat one last little rub before typing out a quick response.

"Well, time to go earn my keep," she said as Azazel jumped down from his perch. "Wish me luck, bud."

Her cat simply meowed softly before curling up into a ball on the couch. Chuckling, Eden grabbed her bag and locked the door behind her before heading out into the chilly Manhattan night.

It took her nearly twenty-five minutes to get to the piers that dotted the Hudson River, though she had no idea if she was anywhere near Pier 81. Her phone dinged in her pocket as she squinted at a sign, no doubt Kevin was wondering where the hell she was.

"I'm on my way. Jesus, calm down," she told the night air as she saw the sign ahead of her said Pier 77. At least she was getting close.

She watched the moonlight dance off Hudson as she made her way closer and closer to the correct pier. In the distance, she saw the faint glow of neon light coming from one of the supposedly-empty warehouses. That had to be the one she needed.

Eden pulled up the hood of her jacket and kept walking until she came to a ripped chain-link fence. Sure enough, the sign above said it was Pier 81. However, once she came to the door of the warehouse, she was stopped by an imposing, bald man at the door and had to resist rolling her eyes as he scrutinized her. She knew she didn't look like the average patron. She was young and willowy and her features were a bit too sharp to belong to someone who hung around petty crooks in her spare time.

"Go home kid," the man finally said. "This ain't your kind of party."

This time, she did roll her eyes. "Maybe not, but I'm the entertainment." She flashed Kevin's business card and the bouncer noticeably stiffened. She resisted the urge to smirk at him.

"Sorry, just doing my job is all," he replied hastily. "Go on in."

She breezed by without another word and repressed a smile as she saw a two dozen or so miscreants watching two sizable men beating the living hell out of each other. She eyed the fighters for a moment, and made beeline for Kevin at the makeshift bar.

"The hell are you doing over here?" she asked as she leaned up against the table.

"Randy's running late," he sighed. "Seems to be a habit with my employees."

She shrugged. "I'm here, aren't I? And it seems like everyone's having a good time so far."

"It's one of my events, of course they're having a good time," Kevin replied. "Want a drink?"

She nodded. "Sure, I'll have a shot of whiskey if you've got it. When do I go on?"

"Eleven," he replied as he poured the shot into a small Styrofoam cup. "I got you a fight with Dana Hendricks."

She couldn't help but beam at her boss; Dana was one of the best fighters in the city. Winning against her could mean a major payday.

"You're serious?"

"As the plague," he said with a smirk as he handed her the cup. "Now drink up and go get ready."

Eden downed the shot and smiled at the newfound warmth in her stomach. She went over to the back corner of the warehouse and shrugged off her hoodie. She then set to work taping her bruised hands, all the while practically buzzing with excitement. She lived for these nightly fights; it wasn't because they brought her some much-needed extra cash or a bit of a reputation—it was because being in the ring was one of the few times she really felt like herself.

As Eden popped in her mouth guard and did a few stretches, she looked up to see Dana throwing a few practice punches a few feet ahead. Eden had seen glimpses of the fighter a few times, but hadn't realized that she was at least twice her size and had several more pounds of muscle. This was going to be far from an easy fight.

Dana looked over at her at that moment and gave her a little smirk as she threw a few more punches into the air. Eden took a calming breath and made her way to the ring.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have our next bout raring to go!" the referee said with all the flourish of an MC. "In the blue corner, we have the returning champion with a 17-5 record, Dana Hendricks!"

The cheers from the crowd were almost deafening.

"And in the red corner, we have the challenger with a 12-4 record, Liv Lewis!"

The cheering for Eden was respectable, but far less enthusiastic.

Dana gave her a wicked smile as they came to the center of the ring. "Ready to get creamed?"

Eden laughed and took her stance. "Ask me after I wipe the floor with you."

"This is a no holds barred fight with no weapons permitted," the referee called out. "If you aren't out cold after five rounds, I'll call the winner. Any questions?"

She shook her head.

"Fighters ready? Three…two…one. Fight!"

A bell dinged and Dana sprang into action, throwing surprisingly precise punches as she tried to overpower Eden with her size and strength. But Eden used her natural speed to outmaneuver her. It wasn't flawless dodging, however, as Dana did manage to land a few quick blows to her side. But that wasn't enough to stop her; she'd have to do much better than that if she wanted to knock her out.

Dana, however, was not deterred. She kept coming at her and managed to land a powerful blow to her chest. Well, that was enough of that, Eden decided. She stopped focusing on dodging and went on the attack, doing her best to make quick, alternating jabs that he would be too slow to anticipate. Unfortunately, Dana was too big for her efforts to take as much of an effect as she wanted.

"Is that all you've got?" Dana spat, as she finally connected with Eden's face. She could feel blood trickle from her lip as she tried to land a powerful jab at her. "And here I thought you were actually going to give me a challenge."

Anger flooded Eden as she threw several quick punches and kick combinations at Dana. To Eden's credit, she got in a few powerful blows to Dana's side and managed to back her into a corner. She positioned herself to launch into another combo when she looked up and saw her standing in the crowd: a beautiful, lithe woman whose crimson lips were curled up into a mischievous and familiar smile. Her blue eyes locked on her as she flirtatiously twirled one of her honey-colored curls with a perfectly-manicured finger. Tears pricked the corners of Eden's eyes; it couldn't really be her. She was gone.

"Zoya," she mumbled softly as she stared at the apparition.

Unfortunately, Eden had become so distracted by her sudden appearance that she left herself wide open for a punch straight to her gut. She groaned and stumbled backwards before looking back up, only to find that Zoya had vanished.

"You falling asleep on me Liv?" Dana teased as she threw another punch, but Eden managed to focus long enough to dodge the hit. "Come on, I thought this was a fight?"

Eden glared at her opponent and spat out some of the blood that had been collecting in her mouth. "You want a fight? Fine."

Unlike her earlier combinations, Eden didn't hold back as she launched into a string of savage punches up Dana's torso and to her face. Her opponent staggered backwards, stunned by Eden's newfound strength into the ropes. Dana swung at her wildly, and managed to throw Eden back with a power punch before she began to charge at her. Smirking, Eden launched herself at Dana and managed to pull her to the ground with a complicated acrobatic attack. Dana's head connected with the floor of the ring and she stopped moving. A referee ran over and counted to five, and Eden heard a bell ring out distantly before she climbed off Dana.

The referee raised her left arm to the stunned crowd. "The winner by knockout is Liv Lewis!"

The crowd cheered and Eden beamed at them before she saw Dana slowly begin to stand up. Turning away from the crowd, she offered Dana her hand.

"That was a match to remember," she told her opponent with a smile. "How about I buy you a drink?"

Dana nodded and took her hand as Eden pulled her up. "Where the hell did all that come from?"

Eden froze a bit at the question, but she answered with a sheepish laugh. "I dunno, I guess I got lucky. What do you want? Beer?"

"Vodka," she replied as they headed out of the ring and made a beeline to the bar, only to find that Kurt was still pouring drinks and collecting tips from the riled-up spectators.

"Excellent work kiddo!" Kevin beamed as he handed her a roll of bills; her winnings for the night. "What'll it be? This round is on me."

She shoved the bills into her bra and wiped the blood from her lip before speaking. She was likely going to have to get it stitched up. "A bottle of beer for me and a shot of vodka for my opponent."

Dana gave her a grateful smile and they cheers each other after Kevin handed them their drinks. However, as Eden took a swing, a hand firmly clasped her shoulder.

She stiffened at the touch before she slowly turned around.

She was half-expecting to see Zoya smiling mischievously at her, but instead it was a broad-shouldered man with a bad crew cut.

"Nice job up there, girly," he said, not letting go of her. "How about we go somewhere quiet and have a little fun?"

She scoffed at him and tried to turn around, but the man's grip wouldn't budge.

"Not interested," she said simply.

"What?" he sneered as he looked over at Dana. "You both dykes or something?"

She could sense Dana stiffening beside her before Eden quickly downed the last of her beer and squeezed her hand over the man's. He wailed in pain as he let go of her shoulder, but Eden took the opportunity to twist his fingers—which made a satisfying cracking sound before she let go.

"Next time you think it's a good idea to run your mouth, _don't_ ," she growled as he scampered off. Blood pooled from her lip again as she wiped it off, smirking at the dumbfounded crowd that had formed around them. "Anyone else have something to say?"

No one answered, so she merely shrugged before buying three beers from Kevin. She handed one to Dana, who gave her an appreciative smile.

"I could've handled him," Dana said as she took the bottle and they headed over to the pile where they'd stashed their belongings.

"Yeah, but it was more fun breaking his fingers," she replied before she pulled out a slip of paper and a pen from her bag. She scribbled down her number before handing the slip to Dana. "Anyway, if you want to do something that doesn't involve kicking my ass, give me a call. You're pretty cute."

Dana smiled and shoved the paper into her bag. "I might take you up on that."

"Good," Eden said as she threw on her hoodie and gathered up her things. She gave her opponent a cheerful wave before heading outside, only to see the bouncer stiffen again at the sight of her. Smiling, she handed him one of the ice cold bottles and toasted to his good health before taking her leave down the dark streets.

As she walked and drank, she whistled a little tune to herself and tried to banish the image of Zoya staring at her in the crowd. It couldn't have been real; she'd died in DC when the helicarriers came crashing down—or, at least, that's what she'd been told. It wouldn't be unlike Zoya to slip away in the carnage and reappear at the worst possible moment.

She could almost hear what Zoya would've said if she were still alive. She would've laughed her melodic little laugh and tutted, "Oh darling, haven't I told you not to underestimate me?"

As a tear crawled down her face at the thought, an anguished scream rang out from a nearby side street. Eden pressed herself against the shadowy wall of an alley and observed a pair of burly men forcing two squirming girls, who were both probably no older than fifteen, into an unmarked white van. Meanwhile, a much younger girl and a middle-aged man, likely their father, screamed and cried for them to stop. Instead, the men threw the youngest girl into the van with her sisters.

Eden felt her anger boiling inside of her again as she set her bag down on the ground. Before she could stop herself, Eden pulled down her hood and launched into a stealthy attack—taking out one of the men easily as she avoided his partner's startled gunfire, though one of the bullets grazed her shoulder. She cried out in pain, but managed to disarm the shooter and land several satisfying blows to his ribs before she realized that she was surrounded by way more thugs than she'd bargained for. She counted at least four, maybe six if two more were waiting as backup. Shit, this is what she got for rushing into things.

She should've known better.

She could feel her terror rising in her chest, and tried desperately to push it back down as she slowly reached for the Glock concealed at her side. As she did, the men crept closer to the brick wall she'd unintentionally backed herself up against.

"Whatever you do, don't go dark," she thought as her hand inched closer to the gun. "Don't go dark, don't go dark."

Her fingers latched on the gun when, out of nowhere, a man in a black mask descended in front of her and began attacking the frightened thugs. Instinct kicked in, and she unleashed a flurry of kicks and jabs at the men. The masked man was a surprisingly skilled fighter and, working in tandem with him, they managed to finish the last of the crooks after a short time. Panting, she turned to look at the van and smiled a little as the older man began attending to the frightened girls. They were okay; no one had been hurt.

"Go," the man in black said to them. "Don't stop running until you get to the nearest police station."

As the family scampered off, Eden took a moment to really scrutinize the masked man. She wondered if he was the fabled Devil of Hell's Kitchen that Anatoly's men had been whispering about lately. If this was the infamous Devil, the rumors were more than true. It was no wonder why the thugs she knew were having such a difficult time handling him. However, before she could confirm her suspicions, Eden's brain registered just how much her shoulder was killing her and she crumpled up against a brick wall. The gunshot wound must've been worse than a graze.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he crouched down. "There's a hospital a few blocks away if—"

 _"I don't need your help!"_ She spat, surprised to hear herself fully speaking Sokovian again. It'd been a long time since she used her native language; it made her sound so different.

She staggered to her feet and started moving, clenching her shoulder as she walked. In one night, she'd been stupid enough to try to beat up eight human traffickers and get herself shot. The last thing she needed was anymore help from some insane vigilante.

"You can survive this," Eden told herself as she picked up her bag and stumbled out of the alley. "All you have to do is just run and survive."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foreign language translations in order of appearance:
> 
> • Что ты хочешь?—What do you want? (Russian)
> 
> • Проваливай, малыш!—Get lost, kid! (Russian)
> 
> • Ваш босс ждет меня—Your boss is waiting for me. (Russian)
> 
> • Вы действительно хотите, чтобы держать его ждать?—Do you really want to keep him waiting? (Russian)
> 
> • Ты опоздал—You’re late (Russian)
> 
> If any of my translations are wrong please let know!


	2. Old Wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Bloody wounds, nightmares, violence, and minor character death.

By the time she finally made it to her little apartment on West 57th Street, Eden was starting to get dizzy from blood loss.

"You're almost there, just don't drip on the carpet," she murmured as she hauled herself past the fourth floor landing. She took her bloody hand away from the wound to rummage inside her bag for her keys, but she couldn't seem to find them. "Son of a bitch!"

"Olivia?" her across the hall neighbor, Adrian Morales, asked blearily from behind her. Eden didn't turn around to face him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she replied as she kept searching for her keys. Where were the damn things? "I'm sorry if I woke you."

Eden admired Adrian quite a bit; he was a sweet-tempered, compassionate guy that always seemed to have a smile on his face, despite the fact that he never seemed to have a moment to himself. He was either at six-hour ballet rehearsals at Juilliard or making overpriced lattes at the little cafe near their building to make ends meet. He never complained or took his stress out on anyone though, and Eden found that commendable.

"I wasn't sleeping, I was studying," Adrian said as Eden finally wrapped her fingers around the keys. She shoved them into the front pocket of her navy Captain America hoodie and removed them with her non-bloodied hand. She didn't need him asking her a gazillion questions about why she was bleeding. "Are you sure you're alright? You seem off."

She shoved the key into the lock of her door and turned it. It made a satisfying click and Eden quickly threw open her door. She looked over her shoulder to see Adrian eyeing her. Despite his obvious lack of sleep, he was still unfairly attractive.

"I'm fine," she replied as she pulled the key from the lock. "I just had a bit too much to drink is all."

"Please tell me you didn't walk home from Luke's by yourself again," he sighed. "Liv, we've talked about this."

Eden's shoulder throbbed as she shrugged. "It was no big deal Adrian, really. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

She shut the door behind her before he had the chance to answer. Pain shot up her shoulder again as she locked the door, and Eden quickly made a beeline for her bathroom. She filled the tub halfway with cold water and threw her bloodstained hoodie and t-shirt into the tub to soak. Her shoulder ached again as if it was trying to get her attention, and Eden pulled her first aid kit—or, as she liked to call it, the _'in-case I do something stupid kit'_ —from the cabinet beneath her sink and pulled out the suture equipment. She tugged down the strap of her sports bra and cleaned the cut as she gazed at herself in the mirror.

She'd been very lucky tonight; the graze didn't look too bad, and neither did any of the other cuts and bruises that dotted her sore body. But she'd been reckless; if the Man in Black hadn't have shown up when he did, she probably would've been dead in the alley or in the back of the traffickers' van right about now. What the hell had she been thinking, trying to act like some damn hero? Sticking her neck out had only ever brought her a world of trouble.

"I never learn," Eden sighed at her reflection as she began to stitch herself up. She winced as the needle pierced her skin and as the string slowly pulled the wound closed, but it hurt far less than the litany of beatings she'd been through over the years. Stitching was a massage compared to being on the receiving end of a punch.

Once the sutures were done and the kit was stashed back under the sink, Eden set to work getting the blood off of her hands and clothes. She'd perfected the art of getting blood out of just about anything over the years, so it gave the opportunity for her mind to wander a bit as she scrubbed. Her thoughts went to the woman at the warehouse; she'd looked so much like Zoya.

"It wasn't her!" Eden told herself harshly as she scrubbed the stain on her t-shirt. She'd been through all this before; after Zoya died Eden had seen glimpses of her everywhere. She'd see her on the subway, or on the next street corner, or in a crowd of tourists, but they were just apparitions her once-grief stricken mind had conjured up. They weren't real. No matter how much she wished it wasn't true, Zoya was gone for good because of those helicarriers. Fixating on a ghost didn't change anything.

Eden banished her thoughts of Zoya away as she drained the bloody water from the tub and hung up her damp clothes. Once she was finished, she made a beeline for her freezer and pulled out a half-empty bottle of vodka. She took a swig, grimacing at the foul taste as it went down her throat. She took another swig to calm her nerves, she just needed to quiet her thoughts and numb everything else enough so she could sleep.

Unfortunately, Eden had a very high alcohol tolerance and her obtrusive thoughts about the night's events wouldn't go away. She was about to take another swig when her cat decided to announce his presence with a curt meow. She tightened her grip on the bottle as she bent down and gave him a little scratch behind the ears, before he scampered off into her bedroom. She heard her bed squeak slightly as Azazel jumped onto it, and Eden took another gulp before she followed in after him. She smiled when she found her cat stretched out on the comforter and set down the nearly-empty bottle, her gun, and the contents of her pockets onto her nightstand and got dressed for bed.

Once she was finished, a bright flash of light flickered through her bedroom window. A few seconds later, an angry thunderclap boomed in the distance. Eden let out an involuntary shriek and practically dove beneath her covers as another crashed menacingly outside.

"It's just a storm, you big baby," she tried to tell herself as another thunderclap boomed. "It can't hurt you."

As if sensing her distress, Azazel curled up next to her and purred, and she was suddenly very grateful that the little beast was in her life.

The rumblings of the storm stopped almost as quickly as it had started, but Eden couldn't shake how scared she was. She just wanted to feel safer and, without even thinking about it, she grabbed her phone and dialed an all-too-familiar number. As the dial tone rang, Eden quickly came to her senses and scrambled to hang up the phone but, before she could, he answered on the final ring.

"You do realize what time it is, don't you?" Vladimir sighed.

Eden couldn't help but scoff at him as she climbed into bed. "Oh please, we both know you stay up until daybreak on most nights. Don't pretend that you were sleeping."

She could hear him chuckle on the other line, and it made her heart ache with longing. She wanted nothing more than to march right over to his apartment and curl up in arms like old times.

"I could have been," he replied casually, "Or I could've been in the arms of a woman even prettier than you."

"You used to say there was no one prettier than me," she said softly, trying to mask how much his words hurt her. She'd broken up with him for a very good reason, but it didn't change the fact that she still missed him and what they'd had.

"That's still true," he replied. "Does this mean you've changed your mind?"

She wanted to say yes, but nothing had changed. If tonight was any indication, the factors that could have altered her decision were clearly still in play.

"No," she replied sternly.

He sighed. "Then why did you call me, Olivia?"

Eden wanted to tell him that she called because she was scared, and he was the only person she had left that was capable of making her feel a bit safer. Instead, she simply said, "I just wanted to hear your voice again."

"Then you're wasting my time," he said coolly, "There's no point in talking if nothing's changed."

He was right of course, but it didn't mean she had to like it.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

Vladimir hung up without another word and Eden held back tears as she exchanged the phone for one last swig from the vodka bottle. She should've known better than to call him; Vladimir was still angry with her and she'd probably only made things worse. It didn't matter that she was lonely or that she missed him, she'd made a choice to end their relationship and she had to learn to live with that.

Eden sighed she listened to the rain patter against her window like a drummer playing a snare. It reminded her of happier times when she and Vladimir had been together. One time, they'd stayed in his apartment for four days dancing, drinking, and partaking in more than a few romps in the hay. On the third night there'd been an awful storm and Vladimir had gone out to buy wine.

"You could always call a store that delivers," she had said as Vladimir pulled on his shoes. He paused for a moment, and Eden took the opportunity to lean down and steal a kiss. "That way you don't have to leave."

He'd given her that sneaky little smile that always made her weak in the knees. "As tempting as that sounds, I have to go see Anatoly for a bit. There's some problem with the latest shipment. I won't be gone long."

"Okay, okay," she sighed before plopping onto his plush bed. "But don't be mad if I eat the last of the pelmeni while you're gone."

He'd laughed and given her one last kiss before leaving. After he'd gone, she'd showered and, true to her word, eaten the last of the dumplings. Soon, it had started to grow dark and low rumblings of thunder sounded above until it crashed spectacularly. She'd shrieked and curled into a ball on her boyfriend's couch, she had always hated thunder. It reminded her of the days when she'd been a child in Sokovia, during one of her homeland's countless wars, and any home could have instantly turned to rubble by enemy bombs. Another thunderclap boomed even louder than the first and she let out a pathetic cry as she shut her eyes and covered her ears. Strangely, she was soon being wrapped up in a strong pair of arms and heard someone whispering soothingly. She opened her eyes to see it was Vladimir, and practically burrowed into his chest.

"I'm sorry, it's just so—" she'd whimpered as the thunder rumbled menacingly.

"Shh, don't be sorry," he replied as he gently rubbed her back. "Everyone's afraid of something, there's no shame in that. I'll be right here until it stops."

She'd smiled at that. "Promise?"

He planted a kiss on her forehead. "I promise, it'll take a lot more than a storm to get rid of me."

Unfortunately, it had taken much less for Vladimir to lose her. Everything had changed between them when she'd caught him in a terrible web of lies and, rather than try to work it out, she walked out on him for good.

"Harden your heart and nothing can hurt you," Eden told herself as she brushed away a few stray tears from her eyes, the words were like a mantra. She'd said them so many times that they'd practically been beaten into her. With a sigh, she grabbed the bottle off her nightstand and took one last swig before laying back down. Eden tried to push Vladimir from her mind as she closed her eyes and slowly drifted off into the inky blackness of sleep.

* * *

Eden dreamed of a dark room that was empty, save for the dozens of mirrors that hung on the walls. There were tall mirrors, round mirrors, framed mirrors, mirrors designed to be held in a woman's hand, and each one was more beautiful than last. She could hear soft voices, not unlike the whispers of young children, coming from the largest mirror in the room—it was almost as tall as her and framed in polished, curving silver. In the distance, the mirror seemed to glow like moonlight was bouncing off it and Eden couldn't help but walk over to it. The childish voices grew louder with each step, until finally Eden was close enough to see herself in the glass. She looked just as she always had—long inky hair, brown eyes, and a perpetually curious expression. She put her hand tentatively on the glass, only for it to crack at her touch. To Eden's horror, the room echoed with screaming and she looked up to see blood dripping from the ceiling. She backed away from the mirror slowly, only to find that a single word had been written upon it in blood: _killer_.

Eden awoke with a start, drenched with sweat and panting as her eyes darted around the bedroom frantically. She took a few deep breaths to calm her heart, which was threatening to beat right out her chest. It was just a nightmare; it hadn't been real.

As her heart rate slowly returned to normal, Eden began to stretch her sore, battle-beaten body, only to notice an acute amount of stiffness in the muscles of her left arm.

"Not again," she grumbled as she slowly lowered her arm; she had a bad habit of sleeping with it held up against her headboard as though it was being hung by an invisible string.

As she climbed out of bed, Azazel ran into the room and began a routine of rubbing his side against her ankles as he meowed impatiently.

"I know, I know," Eden replied as she stood up, wincing as pain bloomed in her right shoulder where she'd been shot. "I'll feed you in just a second."

Azazel meowed impatiently as she followed him into the kitchen. She scooped kibble into the little beast's bowl before checking her email and texts. She only had one message from the courier company so far, they wanted her to hand-deliver a parcel to a room at the Hotel Chelsea. Eden texted back that she'd pick up the package in a bit, put the building's address into her phone for later, and headed to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

"Well, you've looked worse." She said to her reflection as she tallied the visible cuts and bruises that dotted her body. Her face was in remarkably decent shape, the cuts had mostly healed—including the cut on her eyebrow—but her bottom lip was still visibly swollen. Sighing, she removed the bandage from her eyebrow and cleaned and re-bandaged the gunshot wound on her shoulder. She covered the visible damage on her face with the last of her concealer and threw on the first clean pair of clothes she could find along with her leather jacket and boots. Satisfied, Eden holstered her gun and grabbed her bag before heading out the door for the day.

As she unlocked her bike and headed out into the early-morning traffic, Eden couldn't help but wonder about the man in the black mask. Who was he, and why had he helped her? She was probably one of the last people in Hell's Kitchen that deserved saving. Maybe it had just been her lucky night.

These thoughts persisted until she pulled up in front of the tiny Waypoint Courier office on 52nd Street. The place was pretty much a front for Turk's smuggling operations with the Ranskahov brothers, but it did periodically do legitimate deliveries. Eden actually sort of liked working for Turk, it kept her busy and she didn't have to do anything too unsavoury. As she walked inside the shop, she gave the bored, blue-haired receptionist a quick hello. The woman handed her a heavy, yellow envelope without a word and Eden shoved it into her bag before leaving.

It didn't take her long to get to the Hotel Chelsea, a beautiful Victorian Gothic building known for the many artists and thinkers who passed through its doors. Eden always got a kick out of historic buildings; they were like a photograph or a painting, a perfectly captured memory that persevered despite the whims of time. She especially liked the ones with somewhat seedier histories, which the hotel certainly had. Unfortunately, because of the building's sordid past, the doorman stopped her on sight.

"The tour was yesterday, miss," the man said simply. "You'll have to wait 'til next month."

"I'm just here to deliver a package, that's all. My instructions were to deliver it to—" Eden said as she fished the envelope out of her bag. "Laura Lewin in Room 822."

Eden showed him the little 'hand-delivery only' stamp on the envelope and, with a sigh, the doorman let her in. She shoved the envelope back into her bag and took the old, rickety elevator up to the eighth floor and walked to Room 822. However, to Eden's surprise, the door was halfway open. A feeling of dread washed over her as she peaked inside the dark room through the gap in the door, but she couldn't see anyone inside. Something about this didn't feel right.

Her instincts were screaming at her to leave the package at the door and get out of the hotel as fast as humanly possible, but instead Eden pulled her gun from her holster and snuck into the apartment. The first room she peeked into was the bedroom, where a dark haired woman was lying motionlessly on the bed as a large man with undistinguished features leaned over her. Before Eden could even take one step forward to figure out what going on, the man plunged a hunting knife right into the woman's chest.

Time seemed to slow down as Eden pointed the gun at the man's head and tried to ignore the stain of scarlet blooming from the woman's chest. Her instincts were screaming at her again, pleading with her to run away, but her body refused to move away from the scene in front of her. Anger boiled inside her as the man smirked a bit and removed his knife, still unaware of Eden's presence. She'd seen that sort of look on cruel men before, the kind that didn't care about ending lives, and it disgusted her.

"Drop the knife," she said finally as she took a few steps forward, her gun trained on the man's forehead. He looked a bit surprised to see her, but his astonishment quickly turned to a strange look of recognition.

"There you are," he said in an Slavic-type accent Eden couldn't quite place. "I didn't think I'd find you so easily."

The words unnerved her as she search the man's plain face; she'd never seen him before. "I said drop the knife!"

Her hands trembled and her shoulder ached as she kept the gun aimed at the man, but he didn't seem to care one way or the other if she shot him. Instead, he lunged at her with the knife. Eden narrowly avoided getting her stomach sliced open from the slash, but in the chaos she dropped her gun. Panicking, she evaded another wild slash from his knife and threw the first thing she could get her hands on, a thick book from the nightstand, at him before grabbing her gun from the floor and running back into the living room.

The man charged after her, but Eden didn't hesitate as she pulled the trigger and shot him square in the shoulder. He cursed loudly but, rather than charge at her, he ran out of the out of the open widow that connected to the building's fire escape and jumping off the railing. Eden ran onto the fire escape after him, and looked down to see he had landed on the roof of a parked car in the alley below and was now tearing off down the street.

"What the hell?" she said aloud as she ran down a flight of the stairs, her eyes trained on the man's retreating figure until he disappeared down a crowded street. A million questions raced through her mind as she ran down the stairs. Who was that man? How on earth did he seem to know who she was? Why did he stab that poor woman?

After she had rushed down at least fix or six flights, Eden spotted a dumpster below.

With a running start, she launched herself off the fire escape and landed into the dumpster. The impact was a bit harder than she'd expected, her shoulder ached from the landing and the wind had been knocked out of her, but at least nothing felt broken. She couldn't believe that knife-wielding madman he'd been able to make that jump at eight stories without any discernible injury; a feat like that should've been impossible.

"Worry about getting the hell out of here first," Eden told herself as she checked to see that her belongings were all still in one piece. Thankfully, nothing had fallen out of the messenger bag this time. She tightened the strap on it a bit before she attempted to climb out of the dumpster. This proved to be somewhat tricky, as she was fairly short and the dumpster was barely filled halfway. Not to mention, she kept getting poked by, strangely enough, a perfectly good cane designed for a blind person.

Once she'd finally escaped her garbage-filled prison, Eden unlocked her bike from the lamppost she'd left it at and tore off down the street towards Hell's Kitchen as she dimly registered scream of sirens and the blue and red lights of squad cars pulling up near the hotel. She pedaled for what seemed like ages until she came to a park and collapsed onto a bench. Her heart was racing as her mind cycled the mystery man's words over and over again: _there you are, I didn't think I'd find you so easily._

He knew her, or at least he thought he did. But who exactly he knew her by was a terrifying variable. Did he know her as Olivia? As Emily or some older alias? He couldn't possibly know her as Eden, that name was a secret known to a very slim few. She just prayed he didn't know her by her birth name, which she'd discarded for a very good reason. If he knew that name, it would mean she'd have to run away as fast and as far from New York as possible.

"Breathe Eden," she told herself as that terrifying possibility took root in her mind. "There's no way he could know anything about that."

That was far from true, but the lie was comforting enough that Eden composed herself and hopped back on her bike. She pushed what she'd seen from her mind as she started to peddle towards home, her body aching from the fights of the last few days. All she wanted now was a long shower, a tall drink, and a thick book to occupy her thoughts. She refused to spend any more time fixating on what she'd found; she'd done everything she could, the police could handle the rest. The last thing she needed was to welcome more carnage and death into her life, she already saw enough of it in her dreams.


End file.
